


Pride Goeth Before a Fall

by LeraOmo (Lera_Myers)



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Desperation, Gen, Humiliation, Omorashi, Public Humiliation, Wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:13:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22163107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lera_Myers/pseuds/LeraOmo
Summary: In which Ryder discovers an ice world, a full bladder, and a little too much stubbornness aren't a good combination.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	Pride Goeth Before a Fall

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically kink without plot (but no actual sex). Please read all tags.

The thing about life support in these suits, Ryder finds herself thinking, is that it really only does the bare minimum. Yeah, it’s _life_ support and not _comfort_ support, but couldn’t they have given her a way to turn it up a few extra degrees? Why did nobody expect they might visit a planet as cold as Voeld is? Even inside the Nomad, it’s hard to get warm enough that her teeth aren’t chattering intermittently. That’s miserable all by itself, but right now it’s reminding her she gulped down an entire bottle of water before they landed. It’s not like the situation’s urgent, but “pleasant” isn’t the right word either.

Speaking of unpleasant things, the Nomad could really handle a little better. Normally, Liam has to shout for her to “take it easy on the brakes” at least a couple of times, but today Ryder’s handling that fine herself, mindful that every bump and swerve jostles her full bladder. If they weren’t so far from the angaran resistance base, she’d detour for a quick pit stop. But calling the Tempest back to get them? That’d feel like overkill. She’s twenty-two; it’s not like she can’t hold it long enough to finish what they planned. Three little monoliths and remnant puzzles, then they head back. She already said they’d save the vault for another day.

More gently than normal, Ryder parks near the edge of the first monolith and pops open the door. Liam scrambles out of the car the second it’s open, but Vetra stays where she is, leaning in closer. “You okay?” When Ryder turns to face her, she elaborates: “You were looking kinda queasy back there.”

“Oh, yeah,” the Pathfinder manages. “I, uh - think I ate something weird.”

Vetra shakes her head, amusement in her subvocals. “Did you go at more of Suvi’s weird snacks last night?” she asks, and Ryder puts on a sheepish grin.

“How’d you know?”

“Oh, lucky guess.”

Vetra leaves it at that, pointing out where Liam’s waving them over - _good, he’s got a glyph, that’ll save us some time._ It’s not like Ryder’s got the crew under any pretense that she’s a machine, but it’s been hard enough to convince them she’s competent. She’ll sound like a little kid if she admits she has to pee.

The thing about monoliths is they’re way more tedious than difficult. Right now, a little more distraction from her situation wouldn’t be bad, but there’s a perk in not having to think so hard. With her tongue poking out in concentration, she fits the shapes into the little boxes, matching them up slowly.

Just when she’s almost finished, SAM pipes up. _“Pathfinder, your concentration is becoming impaired. You are advised to relieve yourself when possible.”_

She ducks her head, feeling her face burn. “God, SAM, I’m not three!” At least he kept it to their private channel. If he’d said it where everyone could hear - she doesn’t even want to think about that.

_“Urination is a necessary function for organics, regardless of age.”_

Ryder cringes internally. Of course he doesn’t get it. “I’m fine. Really,” she insists, even as she has to concentrate on not fidgeting. (What’s the point of lying to an AI connected to her physiology, again?) “Just - stop talking about it, okay? Let’s focus on the mission.”

Without waiting for a response, she hits the “submit” key, and the interface accepts her solution. That’s everyone’s cue to head back towards the Nomad. She starts up the engine, trying to put everything else out of her mind.

* * *

Driving on rugged terrain doesn’t make it easy to forget you need a bathroom. If the others can tell how stiff she is, they’re not saying anything. Well, Liam’s probably just happy she’s being careful to avoid any potholes. Last time they were here, she skidded and almost spun out, which would be the absolute last thing she needs now. But finally, they’re at the second monolith.

“Okay,” she announces when they park, “everybody out.”

She rises, meaning to follow her own direction, and it’s like being jabbed in the stomach. Before she’s fully up she has to sit down again to regain control, trying to look casual despite the protests of her body to _just let go._

“All right, Pathfinder?” Liam asks. So much for looking casual, then. She forces a smile.

“Yeah! Yeah. Just, uh…” Damn, damn, _damn._ How’s she supposed to explain this away? Ryder gets to her feet, more carefully this time.

Then Vetra’s moving closer, and any hope of waving the topic off is immediately shattered. “Stop,” she demands in her patented big-sister voice. “We’re on an ice world. If you’re sick - ”

“I have to piss like a racehorse, okay?” Ryder hisses, unable to think of a better excuse. She finds one leg jiggling of its own accord, and forces it to hold still.

The expression probably doesn’t translate that well, but its meaning’s got to be clear enough. “That’s it?” Sounding almost bewildered, Vetra tips her head towards some rocks. “We’ll cover you.”

Ryder stares at her in disbelief. “No way. It’s frickin’ freezing _with_ SAM’s life support. I’ll wait ‘till we get back.”

Thankfully, they drop it in favor of finding glyphs. The missing ones here are easy enough, located even faster than Ryder can fit them into the puzzle. She triple-checks the solution before submitting it, unwilling to deal with a swarm of Remnant. Solving puzzles she can do, but dodging, jump-jetting, even the recoil on her gun - those’ll _hurt_.

“Two down, one to go,” she says, mostly to herself, and checks the map to plot a course to their next monolith. Ugh, of course it’s a windy path, and not exactly close. For a minute she considers peeling off her armor just long enough to relieve herself, but when she experimentally wriggles one glove off partway, the cold bites in with enough intensity to dissuade her. Being uncomfortable a little while longer’s got to be better than getting hypothermia.

Her bladder throbs sharply in disagreement, forcing her to double over. It takes a few miserable seconds before the waves of urgency pass enough that she can straighten up again, and Liam shoots her a concerned look.

“You gonna be all right?” he asks.

“Yeah, of course.” She smiles breezily, trying to make it seem like it’s not even a question. It’s not as convincing as she hopes - her voice is a little tight and he raises an eyebrow, but thankfully doesn’t press.

Because _fuck,_ it’s starting to get pretty bad, even though she’d never say that out loud. It makes it sound like she might piss herself or something, and that doesn’t happen when you’re in your twenties and the Pathfinder besides. Right. She really really needs a piss, but that’s _all_.

* * *

Okay, maybe that’s not all.

They’re within spitting distance of the last monolith, and driving is torture. She can’t even cross her legs or adjust where her armor presses into her lower stomach. The others in the backseat have been good enough to distract themselves with a conversation about Nexus politics, at least, so Ryder can squirm without two pairs of eyes watching her.

If only she’d said _screw it_ back at the first monolith. Stopping a mission halfway through so she can pee would be embarrassing, but admitting she can’t wait ten, maybe fifteen more minutes until they’re finished? She’d rather die.

_Stop. You’ll be fine. All you have to do is scan the glyphs and solve the puzzle, just like before._

She nods to herself. They’ll be fast, and then she can get back to the ship and finally have some relief. Her aching bladder spasms at the thought, making her teeth grit as her body clenches up. She’s nauseatingly full, sweating despite the cold. _Fuck, I’m going to explode if I don’t go soon._ She wriggles in her seat. _Just hold on. We’re almost done._

Once they’re out of the Nomad, she expects moving around will help her hold it, but that hurts more than anything. Ryder winds up directing the others towards glyphs from the ground, wielding her scanner and trying to act nonchalant.

SAM gives it one more attempt. _“Pathfinder, it would be advisable - ”_

“If it’s about my insides, save it,” she grinds out, now restricted to shallow breaths that don’t jostle said insides too much. Liam gives her a thumbs-up from above her head - _good, that’s the last glyph. One more puzzle. Just one more and then I’ll call Kallo for an extraction._

Her hands tremble on the console keys. They want to press between her legs to help her hold on, armor be damned, and it takes an effort of will to keep them on the interface. She settles for crossing her legs, rocking with a slow rhythm that straddles the border of too much and not enough.

 _Fast_ doesn’t exactly describe her pace as she keys in the glyphs. If she’s not taking ages to solve an easy part, she’s making silly mistakes. That’s her downfall. She’s trying to fix something that has to be wrong, with half the puzzle not even entered yet, when her finger slips on the enter key.

Remnant are on them immediately. Ryder yelps and the whole team backpedals for cover. At least, she tries to, but they’ve got her surrounded in a whirlwind of destruction. Those little jerks have her backed against a pillar, too small and fast to pick off at this short range. The only way out is - she winces internally - up.

She reaches back and hits her jump-jet. The liftoff hurts, but not nearly as bad as the landing. A hot spurt forces its way out of her, and Ryder swears loudly, hoping her teammates will attribute it to the Remnant attack. Every movement is painful, the act of shooting down those buggers utter _torture,_ alarm bells screaming in her head as she forces her muscles to clamp down.

But the pillar is tiny, barely wide enough to hold her, and one of the machines is practically buzzing right in her ear. She glances to her left, where Liam’s planted himself atop another structure.

“I’m coming over!” she hollers, his cue to back up. There’s room for one, maybe two steps of a running start. Eyes focused straight ahead, she hits the jump-jet again to launch herself over the gap. Vetra’s right behind her to take down the last few Remnant. Pops erupt from her gun as Ryder lands - or, to be more precise, barely catches herself on hands and elbows.

The shock of landing vibrates through her arms, a sharp cry torn from her lungs as her armor digs into her. She fights for a grip on the pillar’s surface, and only then registers the wet heat running down her legs.

“Nnngh!” The noise is practically a scream as she fights for control. Her lap has gone numb, liquid pouring freely down her thermal pants to splatter onto her feet, _oh shit oh shit oh shit NO!_ She writhes, kicks her feet, holds her breath, anything to make it stop. To hell with being discreet, she’s pissing her pants like a little kid!

With a heroic effort, she manages to strangle off the stream, still hanging halfway off the pillar. Her breathing has gone fast and shallow, little gasps of pain escaping.

“Um.” Liam stoops next to her. “Did you just - ”

She makes a little noise in the back of her throat to stop him - _please don’t say it out loud!_ “Some,” she manages, “I - a lot.” Her voice is tight and strained. If she thought it was hard to hold on before, that’s nothing compared to now, with her bladder pulsing and throbbing for release. If she so much as breathes too hard, she’ll lose control again. Her pants are soaked down her thighs, puddles pooling in her boots, and she still has to go _so bad_ she can’t stand it.

“Come on, it’s all right.” He offers her a hand up, but she shakes her head with a groan.

“I - I can’t move.” Her face is on fire, right to the tips of her ears.

“Oh.” He hesitates, then lowers his voice. “Look, just let go, yeah? It’s not a big deal.”

“What? No way,” she whines. As if in argument, a wave of pressure goes through her abdomen. She practically whimpers as the next leak escapes; this is not a choice anymore. “Oh god. Can you - not look?”

Without a word, he nods, stands, and moves away. Ryder manages to shift into a less precarious position, and yeah - that simple act of moving is too much, just like she thought it’d be. Her eyes slam shut as rivulets stream down both legs, pooling in her boots. She can _feel_ her bladder shrinking, and it’s the weirdest thing. God, god, _god_.

Slowly, cramping pains give way to a tingling emptiness. If she wasn’t so humiliated, the relief would feel incredible. It takes ages for the stream to finally taper off - _how much can there possibly be?_ \- into a trickle and then a dribble.

She keeps her eyes shut until she’s sure there’s none left, then draws a shaky breath. Almost lightheaded on the feeling of finally being empty, Ryder stands, her legs wobbly beneath her. Liam turns over his shoulder.

“You done?” he asks gently, and she nods, unable to look him in the eye. “Hey, it’s all right. We won’t tell anyone, right, Vetra?” Liam glances at her, and she jerks her head in agreement. Impossibly, Ryder feels herself go redder.

“So, time to call for an extraction?” Vetra looks up. “The monolith can wait another day.”

“Yeah.” Ryder reaches up to radio the _Tempest._ “Kallo, can you come get us? It’s - too damn cold.”

He’s there in a few minutes, just like his ETA promised, and doesn’t seem to notice their usual light banter is conspicuously absent. Vetra gives her a sympathetic pat on the back. Unable to help herself, Ryder mutters, “My boots are sloshing.”

Liam frowns, clapping her on the shoulder. “Don’t stress,” he says out of the corner of his mouth. She restrains herself from snapping back at him. It's no one's fault but hers.

Once they dock, she keeps her armor on and goes straight for the showers. It’s a dead giveaway something’s wrong, but walking through the ship with wet pants would be worse.

“Please close off the door, SAM.”

_“Yes, Pathfinder.”_

Thank god for that hot water hack. She needs more than three minutes to lick her wounds, never mind washing all this stuff. One piece at a time, Ryder undoes her armor and rinses it out. The bottom layer’s even worse: her thermals are soaked, and her socks disgusting. She peels it all off and seriously considers never wearing any of it again.

“SAM? Uh - you know what they said about keeping this private? That goes for you, too, okay?” She shucks off the last of her clothes. “Please don’t tell anyone I did this.”

 _“Understood.”_ His pause is just slightly too long. _“Later, I will ask you to explain the connection between emotional upset and the excretory system.”_

“Oh, god.” She fills her palm with soap, and figures she might as well bite the bullet. “Okay. Lay it on.”


End file.
